


evil author every day

by mmacy



Category: Madam Secretary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmacy/pseuds/mmacy
Summary: I'm so evil that evil author day can't just be a singular day... This may go on for weeks and weeks. (Shoutout to LittleSweetCheeks for bringing this brilliant day to our attention... I realize I may be breaking the rules, but *shrugs* I'm an evil author, you must expect it by now)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

“What was your first thought?” 

Her jaw tenses. 

“Maureen please.” 

She finds his hand under the table— she squeezes. 

“No, I’d like to know.” 

She looks up from her plate. 

“I don’t know what you’re picking at but—” She swallows. And when she looks into her sister in law’s eyes something snaps. “You really want to know?” 

“I do, yes.” 

She shrugs. “Okay.” She chuckles.

“Elizabeth,” Henry warns.

“No, she wants to know,” she says, holding Maureen’s eye. 

“Maybe we should—” 

“Should we take it back to the very beginning?” She asks. “The first beheading footage that was broadcasted, or maybe my first trip to Iraq.” She shrugs. “How about the car bomb that killed two of my closest friends. The bomb that almost killed me?” 

“I—” Maureen begins.

“Or are you referring to the moment I first realized that those people in the towers would rather plummet seventy-two—” Her lip quivers. “Eighty-nine stories to the ground instead of being burned alive.” 

“That’s not—”

“That’s not what you were asking?” She nods. “Well after you’ve experienced what I have—” She points a finger towards her chest. “—what my colleagues have, what those people in the towers have, then you can ask me that question.” 

Maureen's eyes fall away.

She sighs and picks up her silverware from the table. "Can you pass the green beans please?" She asks Henry.


	2. Chapter 2

He watches as her lips turn up in a smirk. She chuckles as she swirls the scotch around in the tumbler. 

“What?”

She smiles, crossing one leg over the other— her silk slip bunches, exposing her tanned thigh.

“Congratulations.” Her eyes find his. “You just sold your soul to the devil.”

She downs the rest of her drink. 

He shakes his head as he leans back against the sofa. 

She stands, and she’s watching him, stalking him, almost like he’s prey. 

“Who ever said I have a soul?” He counters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who


	3. Chapter 3

He pulls her into him.

“Liz I’m so sorry,” he whispers into her hair. 

Her fingers curl into his jacket. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he says. 

Her body shakes. And her cries, at first, are quiet, silent. He can still hear the chirping of the birds, and then she lets out the most despairing sob he’s ever heard in his whole fifty years of life. 

His arms squeeze her tighter against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brb crying


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't know already I love Mike B.

“Mike,” she says.

He turns, hand falling away from the doorknob. 

She swallows.

“Speak,” he says, waving the phone in his left hand. 

She arches a brow.

“What?” He asks. “I have that dinner with Kevin from something and something,” he says. “You know the one I told you would be a snooze fest, but you’re forcing me to go anyways.”

She sighs. “How can I forget when you keep reminding me.”

His eyes are on his phone. “You’re getting the bill for my dry cleaning by the way.” 

“Mike I—"

“I have friends with deeper pockets you know. Friends with bank accounts offshore,” he mutters. 

“Which would be illegal,” she reminds.

“Is that really important?”

Her eyes widen. “Yes.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Do we need to have another talk, because—”

“What I need is to be in Charlottesville in the next—” He flips up his wrist. “—forty minutes, so if that’s all.”

“God,” she hisses. “Would you let me speak uninterrupted for one minute?” 

“Spit it out then.”

She sucks in a breath and then— “I slept with him.”

He looks up. 

His voice drops. “Is this about the article?”

“No,” She whispers.

“Then…”

“I slept with him.” She glances over her shoulder. “Am sleeping with him.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morning... or good night to those still awake like me.

She blinks back the tears as she steps towards him.

He holds up a hand. 

She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean—”

“But you did,” he says. 

His head tilts.

She can see the tears glistening in his eyes. 

His mouth opens, but no words leave his lips.

“Please,” she begs. 

Her mind can’t keep up.

“We can work this out. I can—”

“Elizabeth,” he whispers. 

She sucks in a breath. She doesn’t like the look on his face, doesn’t like the way his eyes won’t meet hers. 

And then he reaches up. 

She hears it before she sees it— there’s a snap as he yanks at the chain. 

He stares down at his hand, letting it pool in the middle of his palm.

She can’t look away. 

And then he steps forwards. 

“I—” The word catches at the back of his throat. “I don’t want this anymore.” 

Her lip trembles. “Henry,” she cries. 

She sees him swallow.

“I don’t want you,” he says. 

The tears are hot against her skin. “I’m sorry.” 

He shakes his head. 

She has to bite down on her lip to keep the sob from escaping her lungs.

And then he looks up— his eyes meet hers.

“You can’t take it back.” 

And he outstretches his fisted hand. 

“No.” 

“Elizabeth,” he mutters.

“I won’t,” she fights. 

“Take it. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” 

She shakes her head.


	6. Chapter 6

His eyes flutter. And when he hears his name repeated, he opens them completely. He gasps, and nearly jerks up when he’s met by her face an inch in front of his own. 

“Something’s wrong,” she says frantically. 

“Hmm what?” He asks, sitting up.

He scrubs a hand over his face as she clicks on his bedside lamp before crossing the room to their closet. 

“I don’t know,” she mumbles as she pulls on the handle.

He pushes back the covers before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. 

“Is it the kids?” He asks. 

She doesn’t answer.

His feet pad against the floor as he watches her pull down bins. 

“Elizabeth,” he whispers. 

She’s digging through a box now, one that had been pulled from the very top shelf, one that had been tucked away behind the others. 

“You’ve had a long day, and I—”

She whips around. “Something is wrong,” she says firmly. 

His lips part, but not because of her tone.

His eyes glance down to her hands before coming back up to meet her stare. 

“Elizabeth,” he says slowly. “Since when do we keep a gun in the house?” 

And then, just barely, he can hear the faint sound of glass shattering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good night my friends


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited prologue of an abandoned MC... my writing has definitely improved since writing this, so no judgment

Oakwood Cemetery  
Charlottesville, Virginia  
Saturday September 7th 2011 5:34 am

Each and every time he made this drive it never once became any easier. Today proved to be no different. Although the car ride was short, only a mere fourteen minutes, the little travel time failed to make the visit any less painful. 

After a restless night of tossing and turning, he slipped from their bed -his bed- in the early hours of the morning. He accepted he wouldn’t be graced with the gift of sleep. 

Of course he didn’t expect to sleep the night before, not with the significance that today’s date held. 

Not with the gut wrenching sorrow it brought along with it. 

He’d quietly padded down the front staircase, purposely skipping the squeaky third step from the top, hoping to god he didn’t wake any of the kids. And just in case his eldest woke before he was home, he’d left a note pinned to the refrigerator explaining to Stevie where he was off to. A pang of guilt tugged at his heart knowing he’d failed to bring up what today was at dinner last night. They’d been happy recently, all of em. He didn’t want to bring the unneeded pain back into their house. They’d suffered enough. Maybe it was for the best not talking about it. But he knew they knew. Not Jason, but the girls always remembered. They’d been a tad bit clingier the past week, especially Allison. And they both seemed to hug him a big tighter, a bit longer before heading off to bed. Sometimes he forgot how much this affected them too. Their whole world had been rocked… scratch that, their whole world, along with his, had been shattered into a million little pieces. 

His heart sank as he turned left and drove through the open gates. The slowly rising sun peaked out over the grassy green hills; the bright beams of light bounced off the posts of the massive iron fence, causing him to squint.

He weaved the car through the windy curves of the road. It’d been an entire year since he was last here, but he knew the twists of the pathway like the back of his hand. 

One whole year. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to come, it was just there was always something about a cemetery that irked him. The feeling got under his skin and manifested for the next week or so. And seeing gravestone after gravestone with a name plastered at the top… It was too final, only serving as a nauseating reminder of everything he’d lost. 

It hurt too much. 

Once reaching the top of the small hill, Henry eased on the brake before throwing the car in park. He sat there for a minute, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, mentally preparing himself, before he pulled the keys from the ignition and flung the car door open. A gust of the thick humid end of summer air rushed against the side of his face as he stood and stepped out from the driver’s seat. He shut the car door gently, feeling as if he couldn’t make a single sound. A simple sign of respect, but still the silence caused shivers to run up and down his spine.

He shuddered. Six whole years and coming here still affected him this way, still made his knees weak, and still caused his bottom lip to tremble from holding back his tears. He wondered if this feeling would ever go away, if it’d ever get easier. He decided probably not. 

For a moment he stared straight ahead watching as the slowly rising sun illuminated his surroundings. The sky lit up with pinks and oranges, casting a yellowy glow over the cemetery. 

She would have loved this. 

When they were together, they’d sometimes sit out on the front porch wrapped up in each other’s arms with a blanket draped over their laps, watching as the sun came up over the trees. She’d always been fascinated by the changing colors of the sky, repeatedly reminding him of the that old sailor saying about pink skies at mourn sailors be warned… He chuckled. It was so like her to go digging for an explanation, a deeper meaning for something, instead of simply sitting back and admiring the view. Her eyes always shined with amusement as she stared out over the hills, rambling on and pointing things out to him… he simply sat watching her. He’d asked her why once. Why she was so captivated by the sunrise. She’d told him that it marked a new day, another day, another day that she was privileged enough to be able to spend with him.

He sighed. Nowadays the sunrise that once brought him hope for the new day, that once promised another day filled of smiles, kisses, and endless laughter, only signified another day without her. 

His eyes fluttered closed as his hand touched his chest. Through his thin grey pullover, he slowly traced the outline of the necklace he never seemed to take off. His fingers easily found the round object that dangled from the string of metal; he’d added her ring to the pair of charms he wore. 

Protect me. 

His wife had the matching set. The only difference being that hers had miserably failed at its job. 

Its sole purpose. 

Protect me. 

Protect her. 

The charms rested just above his heart. A reminder. A painful one. But the piece of jewelry held a lifetime, although not long enough, of memories. 

He took a deep breath before taking an emotionally agonizing step forward. Henry crossed the paved path over to the edge of lawn after willing his feet to keep going. He kneeled down not caring that the damp mildew coated grass would inevitably leave light green stains on his jeans and placed the bouquet of flowers in front of the marbled stone. He sent up a quick prayer as he pressed two of his fingers to his lips before briefly holding them against the headstone. ‘Elizabeth Adams McCord, 1968-2005.’ A lone tear slipped from his left eye as he whispered, “happy birthday baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruining your valentines day one story at a time


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that we're on the topic of love...

“I wanted to sleep with you.” She quietly muttered. Her voice was small; all confidence lost. 

He glanced in her direction, noting how she anxiously wrung her hands as she remained looking at the floor. “I know.” He admitted.

Her head flailed up. Eyes almost comically wide, reminding him of Jason’s facial expression when he had explained that eating too many carrots could turn him orange. “You knew?” She questioned, begging for an answer, an explanation.

He nodded his head yes. 

“Then why’d you ask?” She pointed out in a tone that showed she was a bit angry with him.

“Because…” He began firmly but suddenly stopped. He was planning on coming up with this whole excuse of making her feel comfortable, making sure she was okay with sleeping in the same bed, but he decided the truth would be best. “Because I wasn’t ready.” He confessed. 

The room fell quiet; the sound of rain drizzling down upon the roof filled the void where words could no longer fit. “It was selfish of me to think that you wouldn’t…” She trailed off as if she’d lost her voice.

He watched as she nervously fiddled with the hem of the loose long sleeve tee -one of his old marines t-shirts he kept in the closet of the guest room- she pulled a loose string from the nearly falling apart fabric as she struggled to find her words. Her lips twitched with what she wanted to say, but something seemed to be stopping her. 

He knew where her remark had been going; She had been alluding to the matter of him dating someone else. “I don’t know wha...” 

“Do you love her?” She’d spit out, almost entirely speaking over him.

He was taken aback by her question. Surprised she’d simply blurted it out. Surprised that she’d even want to broach the topic. “What?” He asked, unbelieving that he’d heard her correctly.

“Jill. Do you love her?” She’d asked again, voice cracking from emotion. 

He swallowed hard, fully absorbing her words… fully recognizing the enormity of the fears and worries in her head that his answer would or wouldn’t put to rest. 

He looked up from his lap into her awaiting eyes. 

Her eyes that were usually a shade of bright blue but were now a shade of grey. 

Her eyes that were glazed over with unshed tears. 

Her eyes that begged for an answer. 

Her eyes that waited for the response that would affect the rest of their future. 

“Yes.” He muttered. And he saw the way her face contoured with pain as she broke their gaze, lips beginning to tremble from sorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, from the old MC


	9. Chapter 9

‘Run Elizabeth.’ He whispered. 

She shook her head furiously; tears trekked down her cheeks, leaving a trail through the thin layer of dirt that coated her face. ‘He’ll kill you.’ She choked out.

‘You have a family.’ He reminded, although the reminder wasn’t necessary; the thought of five particular people continually lingered at the forefront of her mind. 

‘So do you.’ She cried as she pressed her palms more firmly against the upper left side of his chest.

‘You have kids Liz.’ His lips trembled. ‘Go.’ He commanded weakly.

She peered down into his blue orbs -the soon to be tears building up in the corners of her eyes almost completely distorted her vision- his eyes begged her, pleading for her to take the chance that they’d talked about -dreamed about- for the last six years. ‘I won’t leave you here.’ 

‘I’m not leaving you.’ She repeated, willing her hands to push against his chest harder, struggling to stop the bleeding, but against her will her body was unexpectedly being ripped backwards away from the ground. 

She stood upright on her own two feet, turning, gazing in each and every direction, searching for who or what dragged her away from her dying friend. She shook her head; he was more than that.

The strong gusts of wind swept through her knotted hair. The sand that she more than hated at this point flew up into her face; she squinted her eyes and held up a hand, attempting to shield her face. 

That’s when she caught sight of her blood coated palm; the feeling of the warm red liquid seeping between her fingers still evident in her mind. 

She spun around, immediately becoming anxious after discovering he was nowhere in sight. ‘Andy!’ She yelled.

‘Open your eyes Liz.’ 

It was his voice, but he was still nowhere to be seen. 

‘You can’t leave me here!’ She cried. 

‘Open your eyes.’ He repeated

In panic, she placed a hand on her forehead, temporarily forgetting about the blood. ‘Breathe.’ She told herself. Her left hand joined her right, gripping at the roots of her hair. 

‘Elizabeth, open your eyes.’ He softly urged. 

‘Don’t you dare leave me!’ She screamed, unbelieving that after all these years he would break his promise. 

‘There’s no way out of this Elizabeth.’ She crinkled her eyebrows; that voice didn’t belong to Andy.

She whipped around, facing the direction in which she believed the noise originated from. And the face that greeted her… well…. her stomach immediately flipped. And upon seeing the gun he had raised and pointed at the middle of her chest, her hands automatically rose out in front of her. 

‘Max, please.’ She begged, knowing her body couldn’t take another bullet.

He snorted. ‘You know I liked you.’ He smirked. ‘But you know too much.’ 

He chuckled as he shifted the gun’s target upwards, falling on her forehead. 

‘You need to run Elizabeth!’ Andy’s voice urged as Max cocked his gun. 

She shook her head as tears once again streamed down her cheeks. ‘I can’t.’ She admitted, staring down the barrel of the gun. ‘Not without you.’ She whispered.   
~  
Her eyes fluttered with the images -memories of the red-hot sand that burned her palms, of the blood that splattered the right half of her face, of her body anxiously shaking when he turned and pressed the cold metal against her own temple- that played on the back side of her eyelids.

She danced between the line of sleep and reality; petrified to succumb to his request of opening her eyes. 

She trusted Andy. 

She really did.

But here, in the midst of her subconscious, she could fall into the welcoming hug of her dreams, her wants, and her desires.

Here she could grasp onto the incomparable yet fading memories of home; the faces of her children she pretended hadn’t changed, the kisses full of love she used to dot atop their heads, and the countless early mornings spent watching the sun rise over the tops of the hills, with Henry’s arm wrapped around her side.

The memories were her recreation of home. 

Her hope of one day being graced with the gift of returning.

But if it wasn’t possible to one day be wrapped in the arms of her husband or be overcome with never ending hugs and kisses from her smiling children upon walking in the door, she could still escape to the refuge that her imagination provided.

It’s the one thing he couldn’t take, no matter how hard he tried. 

But the usually pleasant and comforting mind space that allowed her to hide away -to, just for a little while, pretend she was an ordinary college professor whose only worry was if her students were understanding her lecture material- was filled with memories and exaggerations of moments consisting of gut-wrenching fear. 

‘Open your eyes.’ He had said. 

She wanted so badly to listen, but she was worried that she would wake up to the small scratchy blanket falling off her body, to the creaking sound of the ceiling fan that simply pushed around the stale heat-shocked air, and to the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach, knowing she had to bear another day, another hour, another minute of being kept away from her family. 

She trusted him with her life, and so far, he hadn’t let her down. 

Her eyelids fluttered, almost as if giving her one last chance to change her mind. One last chance to remain here; of opting out of taking the leap -the risk of waking up to the place she dreaded-

But against her inner fear, against the ache in her chest, she placed her heart in the hands of Andy. 

Her eyes flickered open.

Her body jerked upwards; adrenaline and alarm pumping through her veins. She wrestled against the restraint of the tightly tucked blanket around her, needing the constraining piece of fabric to let go of its gripping hold; she kicked it downwards towards the other end of the couch with her feet. 

Body finally free. 

She cursorily brought her palms up in front of her face, searching for the blood she was so sure would be there, but was surprised to find her hands clean. 

She sighed, placing her trembling right hand in the middle of her heaving chest. 

The sand.

The blood.

The pain.

It was just a dream.

A nightmare.

A memory.

And if this, the daunting glimpses into the recent past, was the cost of being home, she was more than willing to pay the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm convinced I should just put out what I have of this MC at this point... I really do feel bad cutting it up


	10. Chapter 10

It was only supposed to be a week. 

One week away. 

One week apart. 

One week gone. 

How had one week suddenly turned into never coming home?


	11. Chapter 11

His hand strains against her grip. His jaw is clenched too, aching from the fake smile he’s had plastered across his face since the morning. 

He leans into her ear and— “You’re shaky,” he comments. 

She turns to him with a smile. “I just came three times.” 

He snickers. 

She turns back, waving to the group of cheering people on their right.

“Every camera in the country is on us right now,” he says through his smile. It’s not like she needed the reminder. These past four years she had… they had, him and her had grown used to putting up the pretty picture of a happy couple for the press— With just his luck, the numbers had gone her way in November, meaning their charade would continue for the next four. 

“Jealous?” She whispers. 

He laughs, and this time it’s real. “Not even the slightest bit.” 

He looks back over his shoulder, stealing a glance at their children who walk about six or so paces behind. He looks further, and for a brief moment he locks eyes with Blake, who had taken the spot behind Alison. 

He turns back. 

He tries to drop her hand for the second time, but her grip tightens. 

“Counting down the days, Henry?” she whispers. 

“One thousand four hundred and sixty before I never have to look at your face again.” He smiles. 

She hums. 

He steals another glance behind them. “He won’t stick around either you know,” he says. 

She turns, and this time there’s a frown playing on her lips. 

“You’re easy, and that’s all he cares about.”

He can see it in her eyes that he’d hit a nerve.

And she drops his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell Valentine's day brings out the best in me??


End file.
